Remember Me, Darling
by coleypunk-y2j
Summary: Requested by HayleyJericho. Chris gets into an accident, and wakes up with amnesia. He doesn't remember his lover of 5 years, Phil. However, Phil neglects to tell Chris they've been together all that time, and must deal with the aftermath on his own. SLASH. Chris/Phil, Jay/Adam. Please Review!
1. Accident

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.  
**BEFORE YOU READ:** This story was requested by the lovely HayleyJericho. Thank you so much for the request. I love it! I was originally going to wait longer, until I had probably all of it written, but I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_November 20, 2007_

"_Hey," someone said in Phil's ear. Phil, caught off guard, jumped in his seat and turned around quickly. His eyes widened, star struck, when he saw Chris Jericho standing behind him with a megawatt smile plastered on his face._

"_Oh! You-you're Chris Jericho!" Phil stammered lamely. Chris laughed lowly and sat down opposite Phil. Phil could feel his heart hammering away in his chest. He had admired this man on his television since Chris made his WCW debut. Now he was sitting before him like they had been friends forever!_

"_Yes, that I am – on TV, anyway," Chris said, a genuine smile making his eyes squint slightly. "Here, I'm just Chris Irvine. I'm a typical guy, just like you, except I'm a bit older."_

_Phil felt his cheeks redden despite himself. "I just-I mean, you've been an icon for me for years, and now you're sitting in front of me talking to me like I'm one of your oldest friends. I am making a total fool out of myself right now, I'm sure."_

"_Nah, it's kinda cute," Chris commented, letting his index finger and thumb run down Phil's darkened cheek momentarily, "just like the rest of you."_

_Phil stiffened in his seat and shook some of his long black hair into his face. "You don't have to try to flatter me…"_

"_I'm awful at flattery if I haven't even asked you your name," Chris suddenly laughed loudly. "I doubt your name is CM Punk, but hey, in a world like this, it could be."_

_Phil smiled for the first time since Chris sat down opposite him. "Phil. Phil Brooks is my name."_

"_Nice to meet you, Phil Brooks," Chris smirked. "Why don't I take you out somewhere tonight? It'll be my treat."_

_Phil worked his bottom lip quickly. He felt a bead of sweat form between his shoulder blades and start to slowly trickle down his back. "Um, okay, I guess, but you don't have to p-"_

"I insist," _Chris said, his voice serious but his face relaxed. Right afterwards, he gave Phil a smile. "Why don't I show you around?"_

* * *

Present Day, January 11, 2013

Phil ran his hand down his face slowly. He tugged at his sagging skin roughly as a form of punishment for letting Chris get into this predicament. Instead of being wrapped around Phil, Chris was now lying flat on a hospital bed, unconscious, with wires seemingly coming from all parts of his body. A steady _beep, beep_ reminded him that Chris was alive. How lucky he had been to survive at all, though!

Phil snuck his hand into Chris' limp one. He bowed his head and sighed at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I should have never allowed you to get into that car with Jay. He was drunk and I knew it, but I still let you get in that car. I'm such an ass for allowing it. I never allowed it before. Why, then, did I let you do it this time?"

At that moment, Adam was at Chris' door. He looked tired, and his eyes were red-rimmed. Jay, his lover of over ten years, was in critical condition a few rooms down. He had been driving drunk when his truck didn't break correctly and wrapped itself around a telephone pole. He had suffered a broken neck that thankfully hadn't severed his spinal cord, as well as many other moderate to minor injuries, including having his pelvis smashed upon impact. Surgeons had to perform a total hip replacement, as his acetabulum was cracked so badly nothing was salvageable or able to fix.

Chris was slightly better off. Two of his vertebrae had slid out of alignment, though the doctors assured Phil that they would slide back into place once the swelling went down. He broke his left arm and leg, and cracked three of his ribs. He had minor internal bleeding from the cracked ribs that was corrected upon arrival at the hospital.

The two men were still unconscious. The accident had been three days ago. The doctors didn't know when either man was going to wake up; until then, they both remained in Intensive Care. Adam and Phil never left their respective lover's bedsides.

Phil lifted himself off of his chair at Chris' bedside and walked over to where Adam stood in the doorway. "How are you holding up, man?"

"Rough," Adam admitted with a chuckle. Tears welled in his eyes again. "Four more days for them to wake up before the doctors declare them in comas. I just hope they both make out okay. Once Jay's awake and I know he's okay, I'm going to yell at him so much he'll wish he fell into a coma."

"Right there with you," Phil admitted tiredly. "I never should have let him get in the car with Jay."

"I should have never allowed him to drive drunk," Adam added sadly. He wiped at his eyes once before he let out a short breath. "Wanna go down to the cafeteria? I'm starving."

"Okay," Phil agreed. He cast a sideways glance at Chris, and, seeing he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, followed Adam down the corridor to the elevator.

"I wonder what's for dinner today," Adam wondered aloud. His voice cut through the tension in the air.

"Maybe something that doesn't taste like soggy ass," Phil muttered under his breath. Adam heard it despite Phil's efforts and started laughing.

"Don't get the hot meal, then, ass," Adam laughed. "They have subs, calzones, salads, soups… really, anything that you want they can make. I don't understand why you don't ask for something else."

"By the time we get down there, I'm starving. I don't want to wait around."

The elevator doors opened, and both men walked out side-by-side. They made their way down to the cafeteria. The smell of macaroni hit Phil's nostrils at full blast. He ran ahead of Adam and ordered a tray of it without thinking. Once it was handed to him, his stomach twisted in distaste. There were breadcrumbs and tomatoes mixed in. _Tomatoes?! _

"Thanks," he told the cashier flatly. He added an apple to his tray, along with a bottle of Diet Pepsi and a side salad. He made his way to a vacant table and waited for Adam to join him. He did, a few moments later, with three slices of onion pizza occupying his tray, alongside a bottle of apple juice, a side salad, and a banana.

"So, do you like dinner tonight, Phil?" Adam asked, smirking. Phil glared at him briefly before opening the top off of his salad container and stuffing his face with it.

"Who puts tomatoes in macaroni and cheese?" Phil muttered between bites of the edible food on his tray.

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A/N: Please review! :)


	2. The Realization

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

January 14, 2013

Phil woke up to find he fell asleep with his head on the edge of Chris' bed once again. He slowly raised his head up, feeling the tight kinks in his muscles. He squeezed his eyes shut through the pain. He rubbed the sides of his neck for a short while until he could move his neck somewhat without feeling pain shoot through his entire body.

"Well, sweetheart, you've got one more day before the doc stamps a coma into your chart," Phil murmured quietly to the sleeping form in front of him. He leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I'm going to get some coffee. Don't do anything exciting while I'm gone."

Phil stood up and stretched languidly before making his way to the break room on the floor. There, a Keurig sat vacant. Phil selected his usual K-cup – strong black – and popped it into the hole. He pushed the cover down and allowed the machine to do its thing. In the meantime, he took a Styrofoam cup and filled it with steaming hot water from the tea kettle sitting on the back burner of the stove. He took out Adam's favorite tea and submerged the tea bag into the scalding hot water. Once the Keurig finished with his coffee, he took both cups into Jay's room. Adam was just starting to stir.

"Rise and shine," Phil murmured tiredly. He set Adam's tea down on a rolling tray beside the pullout bed Adam was currently stirring on. He sat himself down on an empty chair and took a long sip of his coffee.

"Is Jay awake?" Adam mumbled. His voice sounded rough from sleeping, and his eyes were still half shut.

"Not yet," Phil answered. "Neither is Chris. We'll have to be a bit more patient, is all."

Adam sighed and took his tea in his hands. He expertly removed the bag and took a sip, all while his eyes were still shut. Once the blend of herbs and hot water hit his system, his eyes opened gradually and he let out a huge yawn.

"One more day," he said casually, like it meant nothing serious.

"I hope they wake up today," Phil whispered into his cup. Adam heard him anyway.

"Me too, Phil. Me too."

* * *

January 15, 2013

Neither man woke up before the day was over. Adam and Phil both wept themselves to sleep. Both their lovers were now officially in a coma. Phil woke up to a nurse making her rounds in Chris' room.

"Good morning, Phil. How are we today?" she asked sweetly.

"Not too good," he admitted. "He's officially in a coma today. I just want him to wake up."

"Don't worry, honey. Chris is a strong man and I'm sure he'll wake himself up once he's rested enough. I'm sure if my husband was given the opportunity, he'd fall into a coma any day if it meant he could sleep for a few days."

Phil smirked and shook his head slightly. "Yeah, that does sound like Chris. I just hope he decides to wake his ass up before he puts a huge weight on my shoulders from worrying so much."

Phil watched the nurse record his vitals, make sure he was receiving the correct amount of medication, and check to assure none of his wounds were infected. She charted all of this information before she went off to her next round.

Phil stretched slowly and got out of the pullout bed by the window. He took his accustomed seat by Chris' side and watched as the respirator forced air in and out of Chris' lungs for him. He slid his hand into Chris', as per usual, and was surprised to find the hand a bit more stiff than usual. Usually it lay limp, but he could definitely feel muscles underneath his skin twitching occasionally. He sat in awe for nearly an hour before he felt the entirety of Chris' hand tighten around his own.

Slightly startled, he jumped in his seat. All at once, Chris' eyes were flickering open and looking around the room confused. He tried to talk but couldn't because of the tube in his throat.

"Don't worry, I'll go get a doctor to take out the tube," Phil assured Chris hurriedly. He rushed out of the room and waved down the nearest doctor he saw. "Chris just woke up!"

The doctor, who happened to be Chris' doctor, widened his eyes skeptically, but nonetheless followed behind, with two nurses trailing behind him. Phil sat down at Chris' bedside and held his hand again while the doctor gently took the tube out of Chris' airway.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Irvine?" the doctor asked quietly.

"I feel like crap, that's how I feel," Chris answered tiredly. His voice sounded impossibly raw. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," he responded. "You were in a major motor vehicle accident which gave you a broken left arm and leg, and shattered a few of your ribs."

"Damn, I must have been having fun," Chris muttered. "How long have I been out of it?"

"One week," he replied. "Do you remember the accident?"

"Nope."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Chris furrowed his brows tightly. "I don't really remember. I think I had a match in Tucson, but I'm not sure."

"Do you have any idea the date, Mr. Irvine?"

Chris looked at the doctor, confused. "Well, if I've been out of it for a week, it must be June 12, '07?"

The doctor widened his eyes considerably. Phil did the same.

"Mr. Irvine, I believe you have a quite severe form of amnesia. It's not 2007 – it's 2013."

"No it's not," Chris laughed. "Stop trying to prank me."

Phil suddenly interrupted the doctor. "Do you know who I am?"

"Haven't a clue, man. Sorry. You're not my brother or something, are you?"

Phil felt his heart twist in his chest. "No, I'm… a friend of yours."

"Chris, I'm telling the truth in that it is 2013," the doctor repeated. He fumbled around on the night stand until he found what he was looking for. He held up the mini calendar for Chris to read.

"January 15, 2013?" Chris read skeptically. "No way, man! I couldn't have been asleep five years."

"You weren't asleep five years," the doctor explained slowly. "You've only been asleep for one week. You've lived your life up until last week. The only problem is you don't seem to remember anything past 2007."

"Maybe we can talk about this later?" Chris suggested. "My head feels like a train ran over it. I need to sleep it off."

"Very well," the doctor responded. He stood up off the edge of his bed and made his way out of Chris' room.

Phil stared at Chris, heartbroken, as he situated himself on the bed. A few minutes later, Chris cracked open one of his eyes and said, "Buddy, I know we're friends and all, but could you stop staring at me? You're creeping me out."

Phil nodded, his lips pressed together tightly, and averted his gaze from Chris. Instead, he stood up and left the room in favor of going to Jay's. His head spun madly as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. Any moment now, he was going to wake up, and Chris would still be unconscious. But when he woke up, he'd remember Phil.

* * *

"At least he's awake," Adam said, trying to soothe Phil. Phil dropped his head sadly and shook it a few times.

"What good is it to have him awake if he doesn't remember me?"

"I don't understand why you didn't tell him that you two are dating. Enlighten me, please?"

Phil sighed. "I-I don't know. I kind of blanked. To make it worse, Chris' mind is in a time where he still believes he's straight. Maybe that's why I didn't tell him. He finally came to grips that he was gay when he came up to me that day all those years ago."

"Why don't you go tell him that he's gay and you two are in love?" Adam suggested.

"Ugh, like that would work. He'd never believe me and, I guess, maybe I want him to fall in love with me all over again, and not because of the memories I'd tell him."

"And what if he decides he doesn't love you this time around?" Adam wondered.

"My only hope is he does fall in love with me. If he doesn't, well, I'll have no choice but to let him be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for him."

"I'd never be able to do that," Adam sighed. "I really hope Jay remembers me when he wakes up."

"I hope so too, Adam. This isn't gonna be easy."

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A/N: Please Review!


	3. Living the Facade

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

January 18, 2013

It took three long days for Chris to fully lose the tiredness that accompanied his awakening. Now he was chattering about and laughing just because he could. While he complained of pain when he coughed or laughed, and had some difficulty walking, he kept a smile covering his pain.

_Like he always used to do,_ Phil thought somewhat sadly. Since Chris thought it was weird that he was staying in his hospital room, Phil had returned to their home and had only come back during the days. Phil stared through the partially frosted glass window at Chris as he laughed at something the nurse said to him. A sudden squeal from Adam's room had him jogging in quickly.

Inside, Jay's eyes were opening, and he was looking around the room with wide eyes at waking up to a tube in his throat.

"I'll call a doctor in," Phil said. He went to the nurse's station, where he found a doctor looking over some files.

"Sir, Mr. Reso just woke up," Phil informed him. He looked at him in surprise and followed Phil into Jay's room.

"Hold on, Mr. Reso, we're going to take your tube out now. Just take a deep breath in, and that's it, it's out now. Are you alright?"

"Hurts," was all Jay could cough out. "Throat… dry… water?"

Adam swiveled in his chair and grabbed his own cup of water. He handed it to Jay, who tried to take a sip despite the neck brace anchoring his head in place. Adam took the cup back and helped Jay.

"Thanks… Addy," Jay whispered. "What happened?"

"You were driving drunk when your truck got wrapped around a telephone pole. You sustained various injuries, including breaking your neck and smashing your hip. Thankfully, your spinal cord wasn't severed, so you're not paralyzed. We had to perform a total hip replacement, so walking again is going to be very challenging. Are you in any pain right now?"

Jay nodded, and instantly regretted it with a grimace. "Everywhere."

The doctor reached over and pushed on the morphine pump. "That should help ease the pain, Mr. Reso. In the meantime, I want you to get some rest. But first, do you know the year?"

"Yeah," Jay answered, slightly confused. "It's 2013. Why?"

"I was checking to see if you have amnesia, which it appears you do not. Push your call button if you need anything."

The doctor left the three men alone in the room. Phil watched as Adam showered Jay's face with kisses gently. "You have no idea how worried I was! What were you thinking, driving drunk? Not only did you put your life in danger, but you put Chris' too!"

"Is he okay?" Jay immediately asked.

"Yeah," Phil responded. "He's okay. Broken leg and arm, a few broken ribs, and a broken memory; he doesn't remember anything past June 2007."

Jay's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you serious? Does he know who you are?"

"No, Phil sighed. "And I'm going to keep it that way. Adam will fill you in later. I'm gonna go see how he's doing."

"Good luck!" Adam called behind him. Phil left Jay's room and walked the few steps to Chris' room. He knocked briefly before he let himself in.

"Hey, man. How's it going?" Chris asked upon seeing Phil's face when the door opened.

"S'alright. Same old, same old."

Phil crossed the room and sat down on a faux leather chair. The day Chris woke up, he had snatched his phone while he was sleeping and deleted all evidence that they were a couple. He hid all the photos of them together at their house and even put all of Chris' belongings in the spare bedroom to make it look like they hadn't shared a bed for the better part of five years.

Chris was adjusting well with his amnesia. He was remembering certain things, like how to use his phone. Other things, like new songs from his band, Fozzy, he couldn't remember. He also started to recognize other wrestlers, and even recognized Phil as CM Punk, though he remembered nothing more.

"Do you know where I'm living nowadays?" Chris asked. Phil stirred from his thoughts and looked at him, contemplating lying. In the end, he told the truth. This prompted Chris to ask, "Why do we live together?"

Phil thought quickly. "We decided it'd be easier to share rent rather than dish out a bunch of money on two houses we'd barely see anyway. I know you don't remember it, but we're best friends."

Chris shook his head slightly with a smile. "It's weird having a best friend that I know nothing about."

Phil smirked. "There'll be plenty of time to get to know me again once you're out of the hospital. Do you remember that Adam and Jay are basically your other best friends?"

Chris nodded. "That I remember. We were close before 2007, so my brain remembers that. You, not so much. Tell me, Phil, since we're best friends and all, am I in a relationship right now?"

Phil felt his heart skip a beat, and despite all the self-control he could muster, felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Nope, man, you're single."

"Sweet!" Chris clapped, laughing. "I can't wait to get out of here and snatch up as many ladies as I can."

Phil put on a smile, even though he felt his heart ripping inside. "Yeah, man, you can do whatever you want."

It felt like his heart took a direct beating at the hands of Ryback, or perhaps a WMD from Big Show. It lay limp between his lungs, fighting to continue pumping blood to his body from his left ventricle. The love he felt for this man seared his blood vessels and made his whole body burn. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and take a few steps towards Chris and kiss him for all he was worth. But he controlled his body. He tightened his fists and fought off the burning desire running through him unbidden.

Chris noticed the rigid expression on Phil's face and asked, "Are you alright, Phil?"

Phil exhaled slowly, which sent the toxin known as passion straight back to the inner chambers of his heart. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. "I'm just perfect."

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A/N: Please Review!


	4. Homecoming

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

January 19, 2013

While Adam and Jay liked to think otherwise, Phil was _not_ wallowing in his pain. Sure, it hurt like hell that Chris didn't remember him, but he was focusing his mind on other things. He spent a good part of his day in the gym, or running around town. When he was exercising, his thoughts couldn't consume him. So exercising was a huge distraction for him.

When he wasn't exercising, he was either on his iPad challenging his mind with solitaire or online chess, or at the hospital playing card games with Adam and Jay. He tried distancing himself from Chris as much as possible without seeming like a dick, considering they _were_ best friends. Usually his days would end peacefully with a cup of coffee, sitting in Chris' room and watching TV with the older man. Phil lived for those moments when they were watching a comedy show, and Chris would laugh raucously along with it, or when they were watching CSI or Law and Order, and Chris would sit pensively and deep in thought trying to profile the unsub the feds were trying to profile themselves. Phil soaked up every precious moment he had with Chris, not forgetting how he almost lost him, and also not forgetting that he couldn't touch him anymore. No, this was as good as it was going to get, and he was dealing with it somewhat acceptingly.

Today, however, Chris was being discharged from the hospital with strict orders to take it easy and rest for two weeks. The swelling in his neck went down considerably, and one of his vertebrae had already slid back into alignment. He still had broken ribs and a broken arm and leg that needed resting, though. With promises to do nothing more strenuous than go to the bathroom, Chris was sent home. Phil drove the two, the car ride home quiet, but not awkwardly so.

"Where do we live?" Chris had asked once they had been driving for a short period of time.

"It's not much farther now," Phil promised. "It only takes me about half an hour to get to the hospital. We'll be there in less than ten minutes."

And so it did. In eight minute's time, Phil was easing the car into a park in their driveway. He watched Chris out of the corner of his eye admire the moderately-sized house. Phil took the keys out of the ignition and opened his door. He went to Chris' side and opened the door for him. Since he had a broken leg and arm, he needed a wheelchair to move around for a while. Phil took the chair out of the trunk and set it up, and afterwards helped Chris sit down in the chair. He pushed Chris to the door and to the guest room.

"This is my room?" Chris asked. Phil nodded and pulled back the covers. Chris hobbled on one leg and got in bed carefully, and immediately switched the TV on the opposite wall on. "Thanks, Phil. I know you usually exercise during this time of day, so you can go do that if you want. I'll be fine."

"I'm only a call away if you need me," Phil reminded him before leaving Chris' room. He didn't immediately go for a run, though. First he went to his room, locked the door behind him, and went to his dresser. He dug underneath his mess of t-shirts until he felt his fingertips rest on a photo. He pulled the framed photo out from his clothes and stared at it, his heart twisting in agony. He slid to the floor, grasping it tight in his hands. In it, the two were kissing. Chris' hands were tied loosely together around Phil's neck, and Phil's hands were clinging to Chris' shirt with a vigor that suggested he was afraid he'd lose him at any moment. Phil shakily brought the photo to his lips, and he pressed a soft kiss on the glass covering the picture. On wobbly legs, he got to his feet again and hid the picture. He grabbed a heavy sweat shirt and headed to take a long run and escape his thoughts for a while.

* * *

January 24, 2013

Chris had been home five days, and Phil found it impossibly difficult to act normal around him. Every corner of the house reminded him of their love. He couldn't go into either bathroom without remembering steamy shower sex. His bed reminded him far too much about the nights he wouldn't sleep thanks to insomnia, despite the comforting arms always wrapped around him protectively. The kitchen reminded Phil of that one day they baked a cake together for a friend and they ended up making a huge mess everywhere. Even the back lawn, covered with snow, made Phil think of the summer evenings sitting on the porch together and admiring the sunset, or the days they'd spend aggressively playing football or wrestling on the grass. It didn't matter who won those games – they'd always end with Chris lying on top of Phil, a smirk on both their sweaty faces as they kissed slowly.

Phil stared out the window, the glass marked with streaks and splatters of everyday life. He sighed, and turned around to find Chris limping towards him on his right leg, using a walking stick with his right hand to support his weight.

"Where did you get a walking stick?" Phil asked, a short laugh escaping his lips.

Chris looked down at it briefly before shrugging. "Not important. What are you doing?"

Phil gestured to the window lamely. "Just, y'know, admiring the snow and what-not."

Chris hobbled over until he was standing next to Phil. He looked out for a long moment, admiring every corner of their fenced in yard.

"I wish I remembered it," Chris admitted. "Did we throw parties out there?"

"Not really," Phil responded. "During the summer, we'd usually end the day outside sitting on the porch though. It wasn't unbearably hot then. Sometimes we'd throw a football around with Adam and Jay. We never really hosted parties here."

"We have a nice patio set," Chris commented on. "We have a nice grill, too. Maybe we could throw a party during the summer. I think I still remember how to barbeque food."

"We can do whatever," Phil murmured. He turned to Chris then. "How are you feeling?"

"Eh, I feel alright," Chris said. "My leg's a bit sore today. I figured walking around a little would ease some of the pain."

"Yeah, just don't take it too rough," Phil said. "I'm gonna head over to the hospital. You wanna come with?"

Chris shook his head. "I think I'm going to go lay down for a bit. Tell Adam and Jay I said hi, though."

"Will do," Phil said. He was about to lean in and give Chris a good-bye kiss, but stopped himself well before he did so. "Call me if you need me."

Phil went out to his car and started driving to the hospital to visit his other two friends. Jay was starting to learn how to walk again, Adam had told him earlier in the day. He parked his car and made his way to Jay's room. He knocked briefly before letting himself in.

"Hey, Phil, how've you been?" Jay asked once he saw Phil's face enter the door.

"I've been better," Phil admitted, letting out a long sigh. He sat down on the sofa and looked up at Adam and Jay's faces.

"Are you regretting your decision?" Adam asked lightly.

"Yeah," Phil mumbled, "but I'm not going to go back on my decision."

"Does he remember anything about the house?" Jay asked. Phil shook his head.

"I can see it in his eyes. He doesn't remember a thing about the house. He found me staring in the backyard, and I could tell he wished he remembered it. I can tell that this amnesia is pissing him off greatly. He has an appointment in two days to have his injuries evaluated. Since he's pretty much homebound right now, it's easier to deal with. Once he's able to go out and do whatever he wants, I know it's going to be so much harder."

"We'll be here for you," Jay assured him. Adam nodded in agreement.

"What if this time around, he doesn't come to terms with being gay?" Phil whispered.

"You said you only want what makes him happy," Adam said softly. "If he decides that what makes him happy is women, are you going to object?"

"I could never make him unhappy on purpose," Phil stated. At that moment, Phil's phone went off. He answered it.

"Uh, hey, Phil," Chris said into the phone. "I have a bit of a problem right now. Could you come help me?"

"Absolutely, man," Phil answered. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Phil. See you."

Phil hung up his phone and stood up hurriedly. "He needs my help," Phil explained when Adam and Jay looked at him curiously. He left Jay's room and hurried outside to his car. Thankfully, there weren't any police officers around, because he was going well over the speed limit. He made it back to the house in less than twenty minutes.

"I hope you didn't kill anybody on your way here," Chris joked.

"What do you need, Chris?" Phil asked with concern in his voice despite himself.

"This is kind of embarrassing, but I need help getting to the bathroom," Chris confessed. His cheeks turned pink when Phil immediately helped him off the bed and to the bathroom. He left Chris once he was situated, and returned when Chris called him back.

"This is mortifying," Chris muttered. "I can't even walk myself to the bathroom."

"It's fine, Chris," Phil assured him. "You have a broken arm and leg. Friends help each other, yeah?"

"Yeah," Chris agreed slowly. He washed his hands and, with Phil's help, got back into bed. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," Phil said. "I'll be in my room. Shout if you need me."

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	5. A Taste of Italy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

January 26, 2013

Chris' second vertebrae had slid back into correct alignment, the swelling had gone completely down in his neck, and his ribs had healed. The doctor had informed him that his fractured arm was almost healed, and should be ready to have the cast removed in two weeks. His leg, however, was showing excessive swelling, and could take up to four to eight weeks to heal.

"When your arm is healed, though, you'll be able to use crutches instead of a wheelchair," the doctor reminded him. Phil watched as Chris' face went from disappointed to hopeful in seconds. Phil managed a small smirk seeing his face light up.

"When will my next appointment be?" he asked.

"I'll schedule you for two weeks. If you have any problems with your leg, or arm, for that matter, go to the emergency room right away."

"I'll keep that in mind, Doctor," Chris said, smiling. He looked to Phil for assistance, who immediately helped him off the exam table and onto his chair.

"You're lucky that you've got such a dedicated friend," the doctor commented. Chris looked up and smiled.

"I don't remember him, but yes, I am very lucky," Chris laughed. Phil smiled, despite feeling his heart twist some.

"Let's get you back home so you can rest your leg," Phil murmured. He led Chris out to his car and, once they were both in, started driving home.

"Hey, Phil," Chris piped up from the passenger seat. "You think we could go out to eat? I'm starved."

"Yeah, that's great. Where do you want to go?"

"Actually, what was my favorite restaurant before the accident?" Chris asked. "I wanna go there. Maybe it will spark some memories."

"I don't know about that," Phil spoke lightly, "but it doesn't hurt to try. Your favorite place was a small Italian restaurant a few miles from our house, called Sapori D'Italia. It's really good. Your favorite dish was always their lasagna."

"Sweet, I can't wait," Chris said with a huge smile spread across his face. Evidently his love of Italian food hadn't been forgotten.

Phil parked the car and helped Chris into his chair. They entered the restaurant and were greeted by the hostess.

"Hello," Phil said with a smile. "Could we have a booth, please?" The hostess eyed Chris' chair, and Phil immediately added, "He just has a broken leg. He'll be fine in a booth."

"Very well," she answered with a smile. Her Italian accent only helped boast the fact that Sapori D'Italia was a family-owned restaurant, where all the employees were directly from Italy. Phil pushed Chris along behind her to a booth. He helped Chris sit down and elevate his leg on the rest of the padded bench. Phil sat across from him.

"This is a sweet place," Chris commented. He opened his menu and looked through the expanse of Italian words scrawled across the pages. In their old life, Phil and Chris would try to learn some Italian so they could understand their favorite menu better. "So, you said I liked the lasagna?"

"You would never order anything else," Phil chuckled. "Also, you'd sometimes get tiramisu for dessert, and you'd more often than not get their wine of the day."

"I was a pretty rigid guy," Chris mumbled.

"You still are," Phil bit back playfully. Chris looked at him with a weirded-out expression clearly written across his face. Phil bit his lip and murmured, "Sorry."

Chris gave him a short smile to show he was forgiven before their waiter, Fabian, came over.

"Buon pomeriggio! Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get you to drink today?"

"I'll have the wine of the day… the Morellino di Scansano?" Chris asked, and Fabian promptly nodded in his direction.

"And for you, sir?" he asked Phil.

"It sounds so bland compared to his, but a diet Pepsi, thanks," Phil said with a smile. Chris chuckled and shook his head once.

"I'll be right back with your drinks," Fabian smiled at the two. Phil watched him walk away before he busied himself with looking through the menu.

"Do you usually get the same thing whenever we come here?" Chris asked. The awkward feeling that hung over the table moments earlier was starting to dissipate.

"Actually, no," Phil responded. "I like to try different things every time we come."

"Well, what are you getting this time?" Chris asked.

"I don't know," Phil answered. He thumbed through the pages before sighing.

"Here," Chris said. "Close your eyes and open to a random page. Then, with your eyes shut still, put your finger down somewhere random. Whatever it lands on you have to order."

"Good plan," Phil said. He shut his eyes and thumbed four pages into the menu. Then, he circled his finger in the air a few times before letting it land in the middle of the page. He opened his eyes and read the selection, _pasta e fagioli_.

"What is it?" Chris asked. He strained his neck to try looking.

"Pasta e fagioli. It's a soup made from pasta and beans. It sounds alright."

"You'll just have to wait and see, then," Chris said, smiling.

* * *

February 2, 2013

The snow continued to pile on top of itself. Instead of the inch or so that covered their backyard a week ago, the snow had dumped over a foot of itself on top of that. Much of their patio furniture was invisible, and Phil mentally kicked himself for not moving it into the basement before the storm. The only part of the grill that was still visible was the very top. Phil sighed and he knew he should start shoveling a path in the front yard from the door to the car, at least. Instead, he decided to go into the basement and run on the treadmill.

Three miles in, Phil heard his name being called from the top of the stairs. He slowed his speed on the machine until he came to a stop.

"Yeah, Chris?" he called back loudly.

"Can you wrap my casts so I can take a shower?" Chris asked. Phil wiped the sweat from his forehead and made his way up the stairs. He followed Chris to the bathroom, where the plastic wrappings were waiting on the counter.

_"Come join me," Chris purred into Phil's ear. Hardly one to disagree to _that, _Phil followed Chris from their bedroom into the bathroom. While Chris started the water, Phil stripped of his clothes._

_"Eager, are we?" Chris chuckled seductively._

_"How could I be anything but when you ask me to shower with you?" Phil purred back. Chris quickly stripped himself before he latched onto Phil's lips with lust._

_"You're going to be grateful for that water, baby boy, because I'm gonna fill you up so much and so fast that you'd rip in half without the stream of water trailing down your spine first."_

_A shiver went down Phil's aforementioned spine as he let Chris lift him into his arms and bring both of them into the steamy shower. Immediately Chris pinned Phil against the wall and started biting and nipping at his pale skin gently._

_"Just, ugh, Chris, fuck me already," Phil panted._

"You okay?" Chris asked. Phil snapped out of his reverie with a jolt, and immediately he felt his cheeks burn. He tried to ignore the newfound pressure in his pants in place of wrapping Chris' casts and leaving the bathroom as soon as possible.

While Chris was situated in the bathroom, Phil hurried into his bedroom and locked himself in. He shakily pulled out his phone and dialed Adam.

"Hey, Phil. What's up?" the Canadian asked upon answering.

"I was helping Chris wrap his casts before showering, per usual, and, man, I don't know, I got a fucking flashback."

"Well, what was the flashback?" Adam asked.

"Um," Phil started, somewhat embarrassed. "It involved one of our more intimate encounters in the shower."

"Ah," Adam said quickly to stop Phil. "I'm sorry that that happened. It must be hard."

"You have no idea," Phil muttered. "I just needed to talk about it quick. Thanks for listening."

"Any time. I hope the flashbacks don't start happening regularly."

"Me either. Thanks Adam. See you soon."

Phil hung up and let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He ran a hand over his buzz cut slowly before unlocking his door in case Chris had a problem and sinking down onto his bed. He laid back on the mattress and shut his eyes, willing the memories to stop buzzing around his head.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	6. Here they Come

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

February 9, 2013

Phil drove Chris to his doctor's appointment. The ride was silent, and the snow blanketing the roads only proved to add to the silence. Inside the office, the two waited in silence once again for the doctor to come into Chris' room.

"Excited to have your arm back?" Phil tried breaking the quietness.

"Yeah. I won't have to depend so much on you to move," Chris answered. "No offense, buddy, but I'd like to be able to walk on my own."

"None taken," Phil said.

Chris' doctor entered then with the x-ray results. "It seems that the fracture is completely healed, so your cast can come off today."

Chris grinned with excitement while the doctor got the mini saw and other tools ready. Once his arm was cast-free, Phil let out a snort. His arm looked tiny compared to his right arm.

"Oh, shut it," Chris snapped lightly. "This arm will be back to normal before you know it."

"Take it easy for another week, though," his doctor told him. "You don't want to stress the bone or fracture it again. It's still fragile. If it starts to hurt or feel considerably weak, please wear your sling. It won't hurt in the long run to use the wheelchair for a day or two if it means you don't fracture your arm again."

"Noted," Chris said. "Now, what about my leg?"

"We had that x-rayed as well. There still appears to be some swelling that's interfering with the healing process. I'd like you to keep your leg elevated at least twelve hours a day for the next two weeks, when I'll see you again. When you're in bed, have it elevated with a pillow or two. This will help with the swelling and allow your leg to heal properly. It's going to take six or eight weeks at the least for your leg to heal. You're going to have to be patient and diligent."

"I'll keep that all in mind, Doctor," Chris promised. "I'll see you in two weeks."

Phil assisted in getting Chris back into his chair while he groaned in self-pity and complained under his breath about the whole ordeal.

"Calm down, Charlie Brown," Phil muttered as he started to push him.

**CHRIS**

"Calm down, Charlie Brown," he heard Phil mutter from behind him. He rolled his eyes. He was about to retort a snarky comment when he was overwhelmed with an image dancing behind his eyelids.

_He and Phil were tossing a football around on the grass which appeared to be the backyard. He hadn't been out there yet, but the patio and door looked familiar._

_"Hey! You cheated!" Chris heard himself shout in protest. He watched as he ran forward and tackled Phil to the ground._

_"Stop being a sore loser!" Phil bit back. He struggled underneath Chris' weight until he finally wriggled himself and Chris over once. He was now straddling Chris' chest and throwing half-assed punches to his arms and chest._

_"Damn! Calm down, Charlie Brown!" Chris said loudly. He rolled the two of them over again so he was on top again before he pinned Phil's arms onto the grass roughly. He smirked and lowered his face to Phil's._

_"See, Philly boy, I'm always going to be stronger than you," he cheesed._

_"Fuck off," Phil muttered. Still, he had a smirk beginning to spread across his face. _

_Chris watched, completely stunned, as he leaned forward and connected his lips with Phil's._

**PHIL**

Phil watched as Chris went silent, and after a few moments, a horrified expression painted his face.

"You okay, Chris?" Phil worried. "Does your arm hurt or something?"

Still, he didn't receive a response from the older man for several moments. Chris stirred from his reverie abruptly, and he looked around with a stunned expression frozen onto his face.

"Are you alright?" Phil asked again.

Chris nodded. Phil watched the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed nervously.

"Y-yeah, Phil, I'm fine," he tried to assure the younger man.

Not convinced, but seeing that Chris wasn't getting any worse, he wheeled him out to his car and started the drive home.

* * *

Phil watched discreetly from the kitchen as Chris stared out the back door. He had wheeled himself over without any explanation, and hadn't said a word in over an hour. Still, he continued to watch, the only movement he made was breathing.

"Do you want some lunch?" Phil tried. He had been trying to crack through Chris for nearly as long as he had been sitting here, staring, and nothing had worked thus far. He figured food would do the trick. Chris shook his head no. Well, at least it was something.

"I'm going to go downstairs for a bit. Do you need anything?" Phil asked. Chris didn't move, so Phil sighed and went downstairs anyway. He couldn't force Chris to talk to him.

**CHRIS**

He continued to stare out the window until Phil finally stopped hovering and left. He let out a quiet sigh and sat back in his chair. He had been staring out the window for over an hour, and he remembered nothing. He couldn't even remember if his weird image earlier in the day was a single memory peeking through his amnesia-ridden brain. With another sigh, Chris started to wheel himself down the hall and to his bedroom. Before he reached his room, however, he saw Phil's door was left wide open.

"Why not?" Chris murmured to himself, allowing himself inside. Instantly a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Perhaps this had been his room for quite some time, and for some reason he and Phil had decided to switch rooms? He'd have to ask Phil later. Instead, he wheeled around for a moment, waiting hopefully for a memory to come to him. When that didn't happen, he gave up and went to his own room and carefully got into bed. He elevated his leg like his doctor told him to and put his sling on before he allowed himself to take a nap.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	7. Conversation Hearts

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.  
**Before You Read:** You guys are spoiled. This chapter is almost 3k words long. Enjoy! (:

* * *

February 13, 2013

Phil groaned when he woke up to find out that tomorrow was Valentine's Day. Just when he thought keeping up this façade wasn't hard enough already…

He rolled out of bed and found Chris walking on crutches towards the back door. He bit his lip and followed him.

"You're up early," he commented.

"I couldn't sleep well," Chris told him. He sat down in the office chair he had dragged in two days prior and continued to stare out the door wordlessly.

"Are you going to tell me why you keep staring out that door all day?" Phil prodded gently.

Chris stared at him for a few moments before finally relenting. "I think I had a flashback – you know, like a memory. We were outside playing football. I thought staring outside would make me remember more, but so far all I've achieved is memorizing every inch of our backyard."

Phil snorted. "Well, at least I know you're not going off the crazy end now. You had me kind of convinced."

"Shut up," Chris bit back lightly. "You'd know if I went off the crazy end. Staring out a window is nothing."

"Point taken. Have you had any other memories or flashbacks about anything?" Phil asked.

"Not really, although I did go into your room the other day and it felt really familiar. Did that use to be my room or something, and then we swapped rooms?"

Phil shook his head. "Nah, that's been my room since we moved in. Maybe you did something in the past that makes the room feel so important now. I have no idea what that might be, though."

"I wish there was a cure for amnesia," Chris muttered. "I'd like to remember the last five years of my life."

"I'd like for you to remember it too, Chris," Phil murmured sadly. "How about we go visit Adam and Jay? At least you'll be doing something other than looking out a window."

Chris shrugged. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

Phil watched with a smile as Jay walked across his hospital room with only a cane for assistance. He kept shrugging Adam off when he'd try to help him in any way. It only helped prove Jay was fine, save for having to learn to walk again and having his neck in a brace still.

"He's doing really well," Adam commented. The three of them watched as Jay continued walking around, occasionally trying to do so without the help of his cane. "He should be discharged in another week or two. I'm so happy he's doing better. I almost lost him."

"Oh, shut up. If I really wanted to leave you, I wouldn't get drunk and drive my truck around a telephone pole," Jay bit back affectionately. "I'd probably end up killing you."

"That's reassuring," Adam muttered sarcastically. This caused Jay, Phil, and Chris to burst out laughing.

"I'd hope you wouldn't drag me into the mess, either, Jay!" Chris added.

Jay let out a short laugh before he hobbled to the doorway. "I have to go somewhere. I'll be back in about five minutes."

Phil watched Jay hobble out of the room and towards the elevator. Once he was inside of it, he turned to Adam. "Where is he going?"

Adam shrugged. "He's probably off to get the newspaper or a magazine. He doesn't like to watch that much TV. So, Chris, how are you feeling?"

"I'm doing better," Chris told him. "My leg still hurts like Hell fire, but I'm managing. I'm lucky I'm alive. I just wish I fucking remembered _something_ from the past five years."

"It'll come to you soon, I hope," Adam said with a reassuring smile. Phil could tell Chris wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Do you remember the party you and Jay were at when the accident happened?"

Chris shook his head. "I literally don't remember a thing. I remember the match in Tucson, and then I remember waking up in a hospital bed. When Jay gets back, maybe he can help me try to remember the party."

They made small talk for a few minutes until Jay finally returned with a heart-shaped box in hand, along with a small bouquet of flowers. Adam's eyes lit up and widened with surprise.

"Happy early Valentine's Day, kitten," Jay said with a huge smile on his face upon seeing Adam's reaction. "I love you so much."

Adam stood up and hugged the lanky man for a few moments before he gave him a kiss. "Thank you, Jay-Jay!"

Jay looked at Adam with a smirk. "Well, aren't you going to open the box, dipshit?"

Adam smirked back before he took the box and opened it slowly. Inside, sitting on a soft velvet pillow, was a black chain bracelet with small hearts engraved in each chain link.

"I had it ordered a few days ago, and had them send it here," Jay said, smiling. "Do you like it, sweetheart?"

Adam's eyes watered with happiness. "I love it, baby. Thank you so much!"

"Get a room!" Chris teased from where he was sitting.

"This _is_ our room!" Jay shot back with a smile on his face.

"I wish I had someone to love for Valentine's Day," Chris sighed suddenly.

Phil smiled sympathetically for Chris, while on the inside he felt his heart going into a blender once again. "Maybe next year, bud. Just focus on getting better this year, okay?"

Chris sighed and looked down at his casted leg. "Damn leg, always causing problems. If it weren't for you, I'd be raking in girls by the hundreds by now."

Phil fought the urge to roll his eyes. One would think he'd at least remember being gay; however, that was not the case. Maybe deep within himself he was starting to recognize the truth, but if Chris didn't want somebody to know something, he'd keep it a secret to the grave. Out of everyone in the room at the moment, Chris was probably the most gay, and everyone but Chris knew it. He felt Adam and Jay staring at him, but he didn't give them the satisfaction of looking back. He knew they would just reprimand him for not telling the truth in the first place. Yeah, like he _wanted_ to go through this.

"How about you, Phil?" Chris asked.

Phil looked at him slightly confused. "How about me what, Chris?"

"Do you have a Valentine? I'm sure you must have had at least a handful of girlfriends in your lifetime."

Phil felt his mouth widen into a smirk, and he laughed once. "Chris, if it isn't blatantly obvious by now, I don't know what is. I'm gay."

Chris looked at him in disbelief. "No, you're not. You don't _look_ gay."

"I don't have to look the part to play it," Phil told him. "I've been out for nearly eight years now."

"Just when you thought you knew a guy, too," Chris muttered sarcastically.

"Are you okay with my being gay?" Phil asked the blond.

Chris shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy is fine with me, Phil. You're my best friend. I could never not be okay with whatever makes you feel right."

Phil felt his heart surge with happiness despite himself. "Well, thanks Chris. Same goes for you."

Phil felt Adam and Jay's eyes on him, but again he ignored them. However, Chris was pretending to have not heard what Phil had just said in favor of propping his leg up on Jay's bed.

Phil hoped it wouldn't take too long for Chris to realize the truth within himself.

* * *

February 14, 2013

Phil had just finished his second cup of coffee in front of his laptop when Chris came into the kitchen on his crutches, looking exhausted.

"There's some more in the pot if you want some," Phil told him. Chris gave him a thankful smile and went to grab a cup.

Phil watched with longing as Chris limped over to the cupboard the cups were kept in and reached for one. His triceps flexed, and his t-shirt rode up his hips slightly. Chris grunted softly when his hand finally grasped onto a mug, and he brought it down in front of the coffee pot. He grabbed it in one hand, and with the other, rubbed his face slowly, before cupping it around his mouth to cover his yawn. Once he had his cupful, he carefully limped over to the table and sat down, propping his leg up in the process, before bringing the cup to his lips and taking a long sip.

"How's your leg doing?" Phil asked.

"Hurts," was all Chris could muster in his exhausted state. He yawned loudly again before taking another sip. Phil watched him subtly as his eyes started to open slowly to take in his surroundings. His eyes rested on a massive bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle of the table.

"What the hell is with the flowers? Did you go outside with a basket and clip them from the neighbor's lawns?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't. Adam decided it'd be cute to send us a huge bouquet from 1-800 FLOWERS. He's been watching too many commercials with Jay at the hospital. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he sent an Edible Arrangements package, either."

"Edible Arrangements?" Chris asked, confused.

Phil nodded. "It's like a fruit basket that you can send to people. They have strawberries, mangoes, pears, chocolate covered stuff, and the like. They're ridiculously overpriced and totally something Adam would fall for."

Chris chuckled. "Yup, that definitely sounds like Adam, alright. So, are you going to take me somewhere for Valentine's Day?"

"Um, if you want me to," Phil answered quietly. "Sapori's, maybe?"

"I was thinking more like a bar," Chris laughed. "I'm convinced I could beat your ass at pool."

"Alright. I don't drink, though," Phil informed him.

"I know."

Phil's eyes widened. "What do you mean, you know? Do you remember that?"

"I don't need to remember it, Phil," he answered with a smirk. "It's written on your knuckles and your stomach."

Phil sighed. "I forgot about that. I was hoping you'd remembered something."

"It's not our lucky day, now is it?" Chris spoke quietly. "Maybe I'll have a really hot memory today, from a past Valentine's Day with some girl, you think?"

"Maybe," Phil answered, getting up and putting his mug in the sink. "I'm going for a run downstairs. Yell if you need me."

* * *

Phil pulled into a parking space at his and Chris' favorite sports bar and got out of the car, followed closely by Chris. They took a seat at a booth. Chris promptly ordered a beer, while Phil settled for water. He stared at a TV showing a replay of a basketball game with slight interest while the two waited for their drinks to come. Once they were sat on the table, Chris immediately reached for his drink and took a long swig.

**CHRIS**

Chris took a long drink of his beer, acutely aware of Phil staring at him through his peripheral vision. God, couldn't the kid at least try to make his efforts discreet?

"So, how's the game?" Chris threw out. He watched Phil as he took a sip of water before answering.

"Going good, I guess. I'm not a huge basketball fan."

Chris nodded once before tipping the rest of his glass down and setting it on the table, empty.

"Let's go play a round of pool," Chris suggested. He started getting himself out of the booth and using his crutches to walk to a vacant table. He watched Phil slide out with ease and follow him. He tossed a stick to Chris, and Chris immediately put chalk on the tip.

"You can go first," Chris offered.

"Alright," Phil said. He rolled the balls around before taking the barrier off the balls and setting the cue ball up. He lined the stick up and aimed before hitting the cue. It hit the other balls with a loud smack, and he sunk one striped ball.

"Not bad," Chris commented. "You've got stripes, I've got solids. Your turn."

Phil looked at him cockily and said, "I know how to play pool, Chris. You taught me, after all."

So Chris watched Phil assess the table. His eyes lit up once he saw a possible move, and he moved to Chris' side of the table to aim his stick. He struck the cue ball softly, making one striped ball sink, though not before it hit another in, too.

"Shit," Chris muttered. Phil heard and shot him an innocent smirk.

"It's not 'hustling' you, either, if there's no money involved and I know you know I play well," Phil justified himself easily, before hitting the cue again. This time, however, nothing sank except the cue.

"Dammit," Phil hissed. He grabbed the cue ball from one of the pouches and handed it to Chris. Chris instantly set it down in front of him and struck it. He sunk two solids. In retaliation, he stuck his tongue out at Phil.

The game went on until there was one solid, one stripe, and the 8-ball left on the table. Phil aimed and struck the cue; however, only his stripe went in.

Chris smirked and hopped around the table to get into position. He aimed carefully, and made his last ball bounce across the table, hit the 8-ball in, and sink itself. Phil hung his head in defeat once he saw Chris execute his final move.

"Dude, I fucking rock," Chris said, laughing. Phil rolled his eyes, though he did smirk, too.

Chris couldn't explain why, but something surged in his abdomen when Phil smirked like that. His lips drew back to show his shining, white teeth while his eyes narrowed slightly, forcing him to look at him through his eyelashes. He looked… beautiful.

_Stop it,_ he told himself. _Guys don't think their best friends are beautiful. They don't think about their friends like this. Stop it stop it stop stop stop._

"You win," Phil said, admitting defeat. Chris had to avert his gaze when Phil looked at him like that again.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Chris said suddenly. He needed to get himself away from Phil for a few minutes. He grabbed his crutches and headed off towards the bathroom.

Once he got out of his stall, he went to wash his hands. There was another guy at the adjacent sink with a dirty-blond fringe half-hanging in his eyes. His blue eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Chris looked away, embarrassed, and hurriedly washed his hands.

These thoughts never plagued him before the accident. Why was he suddenly thinking thoughts that were so, well, _gay? _No offense to Adam, Jay, and Phil, but they were gay. Not him. He was as straight as a board.

_Yeah, a board that's been snapped in half six times over,_ a voice in his head said. He slammed his eyes shut and willed his thoughts to bury themselves 6 feet under.

Despite his best efforts, when Chris saw Phil after he was done in the bathroom, he was bombarded by thoughts of him.

_His eyes are so alluring, so captivating, so breathtaking… how does he manage to look at himself in the mirror?  
Those long ebony lashes which he peeks out of every so often makes my heart swell, burst, and drown in itself.  
His hair, or lack thereof, looks like it would feel nice under my hands. I'd like to just run them over his head once…  
The color decorating his skin stood out tremendously. I wanted to stare deep into his pores and study each color, memorize every aspect of each tattoo, so I could find them with his eyes shut.  
The smile that man makes is sinful. It should be outlawed, for what it's making my body do. I can feel my knees tremble and knock against each other as my throat runs dry when he reveals his teeth in an all-encompassing smile. His lip ring even stretches to the side, softly reflecting whatever light source is around._

"Hello, Chris? Are you there, or do I need to leave a message?"

"Sorry, what?" Chris asked, embarrassed. He felt his cheeks burning slightly, and prayed Phil didn't notice.

"Are you ready to go home yet?" Phil asked. His tone suggested he had already asked him a few times before.

"Y-yeah, let's go."

**PHIL**

Phil shook his head before he led both of them out of the bar, making sure he left a tip beforehand. Chris had totally zoned out on him back inside, and his eyes and mouth looked like he was a teen boy having his first wet dream. He didn't dare ask what Chris was thinking about.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	8. Denying the Memories

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

February 28, 2013

"The swelling has gone down completely," Chris' doctor informed him. Phil watched as Chris' face lit up in a huge smile.

"How long until I'm cast-free?" Chris asked, excited.

"Your leg appears to have started to heal, so my best guess would be five or six weeks. I'm positive you'll have it off before April."

"Thank you, Doctor," Chris said, still smiling. He led Phil out of the room and to the receptionist's desk to schedule another appointment. Once he had done so, they went out to Phil's car.

"Do you want to go anywhere?" Phil asked, sliding into the driver's seat. Chris shook his head.

"Actually, I want to go take a nap for once. I'm exhausted."

"Fair enough," Phil said, starting the ignition and starting off home. Once they were home, Chris made a beeline for his room.

"I'm going to go on a jog," Phil told him before grabbing his coat and phone and heading out the door.

* * *

**CHRIS**

He started to have flashbacks, or memories, or whatever you wanted to call it, three nights ago. He was sitting in his bed with his leg propped up when he instantly remembered every moment, every detail of the accident. He hadn't had a chance to call Jay to ask, but he was pretty sure it was accurate. It was too detailed to not be real.

_"Let's go home now," Chris slurred to Jay. Jay hiccupped once before he jammed his keys into his car. "Phil and Adam are – hic! – waiting for us."_

_"Slow your… calm down your… slow your horses down," Jay said nonsensically. However, in Chris' drunken state of a mind, this made sense._

_"No, you slow down _your _horses," he shot back before fumbling around for his seatbelt. He grasped onto it and managed to buckle himself in in less than two minutes._

_"Are you ready, slow ass?" Jay asked. His eyes were fluttering shut periodically, most likely from exhaustion, as he switched the car into drive. He gripped the steering wheel tight, now vividly aware of how drunk he was._

_"Bet you can't get this old piece of shit over eighty," Chris taunted from the passenger's seat. Taking that as a personal challenge against his car, Jay pushed down on the gas pedal, making sure it kept contact with the floor of the car. His hands must have been sweaty, because they slipped for a mere moment before the car skidded off course and went careening towards a guard rail._

_"Be careful!" Chris warned him, trying to grab onto the steering wheel. Jay slapped his hands and tried to wrestle him off, all the while still keeping the pedal to the metal. Together, they veered off the road and hit a telephone pole. Having had the wind knocked out of him forcefully, Chris coughed loudly a few times and found blood on his hand. Then he passed out._

A few random memories were scattered in, most of which involving Phil in some way. In fact, the only memory not directly involving Phil was the one of the accident.

Chris hadn't told Phil, or anybody for that matter, about his memories. He didn't really feel like telling anybody about them, so why bother mentioning they were occurring? He was fighting a huge personal battle with himself trying to not get creepy with Phil. He was his friend, for Christ's sakes. He shouldn't be thinking about him in the ways he had been lately.

Unknown to Chris, he'd be hit hard with a dose of reality before April came around.

* * *

March 2, 2013

Chris finally decided to call Jay to ask him about the accident. Jay confirmed everything that Chris told him.

"Are you getting your memory back, man?" Jay asked.

"I don't know," Chris murmured, confused with everything. "I hope I am, though."

"Yeah, I hope so too, Chris," Jay told him. "Look, I gotta go to PT right now. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, Jay, I'll see you soon."

Chris hung up his phone and let his head fall into his hands. He rubbed his closed eyes with the pads of his thumbs roughly before letting out a soft groan.

_Chris looked at himself in the mirror and fixed his hair until it looked just right. _

_"I can do this," he told himself with confidence. He let out a nervous sigh and shook his jittery body a few times to relieve some of the tension wound tight in his muscles._

_Chris left the room and approached Adam and Jay. The young couple was sitting on his couch, waiting patiently for Chris to tell them his huge news._

_"Guys, I know I've been keeping you waiting long, and I apologize," Chris began slowly. "It's just, I don't know, I'm nervous about telling you two is all."_

_"We're your best friends, Chris," Jay told him lightly. "You can tell us anything."_

_Adam nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, Chris; anything you tell us will be kept strictly confidential. You don't have to worry about telling us."_

_Chris let out a long, shaky sigh before he parted his lips open gently to tell his friends._

_"I'm gay."_

Chris jolted with a start with this memory. It was so tangible, he felt as though if he reached his hand out, he'd be able to touch this younger-looking Chris and feel the cotton of his t-shirt on his fingertips. With a shaky sigh, Chris got out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom.

"Who _are_ you?" Chris mumbled to himself softly. "I'm _not_ gay, nor am I in love with my best friend. What is up with my brain?"

With a final sigh, Chris left the bathroom and retreated back into his bedroom. He crawled under his blankets and admitted defeat, allowing himself to fall into a deep slumber.

* * *

Phil passed by Chris' room and noticed the older man asleep again. With a quiet sigh, he gently shut the door. Lately Chris had been sleeping much more and had seemed so preoccupied with his own thoughts he could barely communicate with him anymore. Not knowing where to turn, he decided to call Adam.

"Hey, Phil! How's it going?" Adam asked once he answered his phone.

"It's alright," Phil answered. "Listen, have you heard anything from Chris lately, perhaps on how he's feeling?"

"No," Adam said truthfully. "Why, is he not feeling well?"

"I'm not sure," Phil said. "He seems depressed and so preoccupied with his mind he can scarcely function. I was hoping maybe he called you, but I guess not. Thanks anyway, Adam."

"No problem, Phil. Call if you need anything."

"I will," Phil promised before he hung up.

Later that day, Phil was relaxing on the couch watching TV when Chris came into the room tiredly and sat down next to him.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asked gently.

With a yawn, Chris shrugged. "I have a question, though. It's kind of awkward, so if you don't feel like answering, just hit me upside the head or something."

Phil snorted. "Uh, okay. What is it?"

Without meeting his glance even remotely, Chris asked very quietly, "How did you find out you were gay?"

Phil's eyes widened in surprise before he answered, "I'm not sure, Chris. I just knew. It was never something I really questioned; I just knew that's who I was early on. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Chris said casually before turning his attention to the TV. He never spoke of the matter again.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	9. Breakdown

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

March 20, 2013

Phil watched Chris' face light up in joy when his doctor started to remove his cast. Nearly three months later and he was finally put back together again. Phil smiled along with Chris.

"Please stay on your crutches for a couple more days, Chris," his doctor told him. "Your leg is still healing."

"Don't worry, Doc. I'm not going to have another cast anytime soon."

With a smile, the doctor dismissed him. He picked up his crutches and started to make his way out of the office. Phil followed.

"Do you want to go somewhere to celebrate?" Phil asked gently. Chris had been even more withdrawn lately. At the slightest provocation, he'd shrink into himself.

"Not really," Chris mumbled. "I want to go home."

"Okay," Phil said, suppressing a sigh. He was really starting to worry about the older man. He definitely seemed depressed. "Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?"

"You can get whatever you want, Phil. I'm not that hungry."

Phil drew his lips into a tight line and got into his car. They drove home in silence.

* * *

Chris limped over to the windows in his bedroom and shut the shades and pulled the curtains closed. Next, he turned on the overhead fan and switched all the lights off. Then he crawled into bed and covered himself completely with his duvet.

"I'm not falling apart," he muttered quietly. "I'm not going insane. I'm completely fine. There's nothing wrong with me. And I'm most _definitely_ not gay. No way. "

Still, he sighed quietly and let his arm fall off the side of his bed. His hand fumbled with an old shoebox under his bed before he brought it up under the blanket with him. He used his phone as a flashlight and looked at the choices in front of him. He could choose between Cymbalta, Xanax, Valium, morphine, Ativan, Ambien, Halcion, oxycodone, OxyContin, Opana ER, or fentanyl patches.

Chris picked up the Ambien and Valium bottles and grabbed one fentanyl patch. He stuck the patch to his bicep and then took two of each pill before putting everything away and sliding it back under the bed.

Chris didn't worry about an overdose. He had been doing this for nearly three weeks now. He couldn't deal with everything going on. His memory was shit, he couldn't walk properly, and bullshit thoughts were running rampant through his mind. The sleeping pills shut his thoughts up, the pain pills took the tension and stress away, and the fentanyl patch let him do all of this while feeling like he was soaring on a cloud. He knew once he fell asleep, he wouldn't be up for at least 16 hours. It was less time to let his thoughts control him, so that outweighed any of the negative in the situation.

Just four days ago, Chris had the most vivid memory recall yet – he even knew the date it occurred. November 20, 2007 was the date, and, according to the flashback, that was the date he asked Phil on a date with him. Yes, Phil, a.k.a. his best friend.

_I'm not gay. I don't love my best friend. I don't love Phil. I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I swear to god I'm not gay. He's just my friend. I don't love him. I'm straight. I like boobs. I don't like dick. But what if those lips just wrapped themselves around me once, and the cold metal of his lip ring sent shivers down my back … no, stop it! You are not gay, Christopher Keith Irvine. You do not want to have sex with Phil. You do not want to know what it would feel like to run your hands up his sculpted back while your tongue loses itself in his mouth, and you thrust ever so gently inside of him – no, stop that! Shut up shut up shut up!_

Chris punched himself in the face and instantly felt the pain. Thankfully, the pills were starting to kick in, and it quickly faded away. His body felt like it was being covered with a soft layer of down, and he sighed pleasantly before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

March 21, 2013

Chris woke up mid-afternoon the next day with a subdued headache, kind of like a soft nagging in his brain. He stretched his body and yawned. Not two minutes after he woke up did he hear the soft straining of a voice far away. He stilled and listened closely.

_"…You know … truth … Chris …"_

Chris' eyes widened considerably before he punched himself in the head. The source of the voice was lodged in his brain, and he needed to make it stop. However, it only got louder.

_"Chris, you know the truth. You know you know it, Phil knows, everyone knows, everyone accepts it except you. You are gay, Chris, gay!"_

"Stop it!" Chris shrieked. He smacked himself on the temple hard a few times before punching his skull again.

_"Gay, gay, gay… You are gay, Chris…"_

"I said stop it!" Chris wailed. Tears he didn't know had started were falling down his face uncontrollably. "I am _not!_ Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

The voice was now screaming inside his head.

_"ACCEPT WHO YOU ARE, CHRIS. YOU ARE GAY, YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN, AND YOU ALWAYS WILL BE!"_

"Shut up!" Chris screamed at the top of his lungs. Among the screaming in his head and the sobs leaving his chest, he heard Phil come into the room and rush to his side.

"Are you okay, Chris?" he asked worriedly.

"Make it stop, Phil, please!" Chris begged. He grabbed on to Phil's shirt tightly and felt the sobs rip through his lungs. "It won't stop screaming! Please help me, please Philly…"

**PHIL**

Chris was sitting up in his bed sobbing his eyes out and begging for Phil to make "it" stop. Phil looked on, helpless, as Chris continued crying uncontrollably. Not knowing what else to do, he took out his phone and dialed 911.

_"911, how may I help you?"_ the dispatcher asked.

"I need an ambulance. I think my friend is in real trouble. He can't stop screaming and crying, and he's begging me to 'make it stop'. Please hurry, he's only getting worse."

_"Your address, please, sir, and an ambulance will leave immediately."_

Phil gave the dispatcher their house address before he hung up and started rubbing Chris' back soothingly. "I'm gonna make it stop, Chris, you just need to calm down, okay?"

"It won't stop yelling," Chris hissed. He shut his eyes and screwed them shut. "I can't… I can't handle this."

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	10. Admitted

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

March 23, 2013

Chris woke up in a hospital just past midnight to find himself hooked up to an IV line and he also had restraints keeping his legs and arms shackled to his bed. He shook them slightly to see if they would give, which they did not. He sighed contentedly, despite the fact, because the voice that was screaming a while back was gone.

"Anyone wanna let me free?" Chris called out into the empty room.

Silence.

With an eye roll and a grunt, Chris settled back into his bed. That's when he noticed the call button near his right hand. He grabbed at it and hit the button.

A few minutes later, a nurse came in.

"Why am I in the hospital?" he asked.

"You're on a 72 hour psychiatric watch, Mr. Irvine," she answered. "You were admitted in a screaming, crying fit, claiming that a voice wouldn't shut up. We sedated you and you've been out cold since."

"I'm not crazy," Chris muttered. "Can you at least take the restraints off? I don't hear the voice anymore, so I'm not going to go ballistic."

"That's not my decision to make," she said. "I'll go page your doctor for you, and he can assess you."

"Thanks," Chris called out as she was leaving. He sighed and let his head fall back onto his pillow, where he waited in silence.

Almost forty minutes later, a doctor walked in. He held a file and a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Hello, Chris, how are you today?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"I'm better. I don't hear any voice other than my own, and I just want to be unrestrained."

"You appear to be much better, but since I don't know for sure what's going on in your head, we'll slowly take off the restraints. I'll have your nurse take one off every thirty minutes. Make sure you rest up, because you have a session with me at ten a.m. tomorrow morning. See you then."

Chris sighed as he watched the doctor leave. They were always so god-like and it kind of pissed him off. A few minutes later, the same nurse from before came in and took off the restraint on his right leg. He bent it and stretched it a few times to get the blood flowing before resting it again.

Chris immediately did as the doctor suggested and fell asleep.

* * *

At around 9:45 the next morning, Chris was woken up by a nurse calling his name. He stretched his arms above his head and smiled slightly at the restraints being gone. After a short yawn, he sat up and rubbed his face. He brushed his teeth before going to his session with the doctor from the night before. He greeted Chris at the door, and led him to a couch. Chris sat down on one of the cushions and rested his right arm on the armrest.

"Chris, do you remember why you were admitted?" he asked. His voice was monotone, as it had been earlier.

"I heard a voice in my head," Chris replied simply. "I started to scream and cry. My friend called an ambulance. They drove me to the hospital. I don't remember anything after that."

"Do you know what triggered this episode?"

Chris shook his head. "I had just woken up, and I heard it. It sounded distant at first, like it was far away. Then I realized it was in my head, and it quickly got louder and louder until I felt like my head was going to explode."

The doctor wrote what Chris said onto a notepad. "Have you been experiencing any stress in the past week or so? Any physical stress, like a sore back, or emotional stress at all?"

"Yeah," Chris mumbled. "But it's stupid. My mind is telling me one thing, when clearly it's not right."

"And that would be?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Chris spoke quietly. He fiddled with his thumbs, waiting for the doctor to say something. However, he just sat in silence and stared at Chris. Having the other man staring at him unnerved Chris, and he felt a trickle of sweat fall down between his shoulder blades. Minutes passed in silence. With each second, Chris felt his anxiety levels rise higher and higher until he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Why aren't you talking?" Chris finally asked. His stomach rolled on a wave of nausea as he said this.

"I'm thinking," he replied calmly.

"What are you thinking about?" Chris spat out, exasperated. He was on the verge of passing out.

"I'm wondering how a perfectly healthy man like yourself would notice there's a problem, yet when there's an opportunity to safely talk about it, you won't? That's puzzling me greatly right now. I'm only trying to help you, Chris."

"I don't _need_ help," Chris hissed. The nausea was gone, and in its place was anger. "I'm perfectly fine. I heard a voice once, and now everyone is making a huge deal of it. Can I please just go now?"

"Not yet, Chris. You have a 2 hour appointment, and we've barely covered 15 minutes. You said a few minutes ago that you've been dealing with some sort of stress. Would you like to talk about that?"

"That was a mistake," Chris lied angrily. "Forget I even said it. I didn't mean it. I'm perfectly fine and there is nothing wrong with me. I just want to go home."

_Just tell the man, Chris. Stop being a fucking pussy and tell him you're gay. Go on, do it._

"But I'm _not_," Chris replied out loud.

"You're not what?" the doctor asked.

"I'm not gay," Chris said, and immediately he realized his mistake. His eyes widened considerably and his heart starting to race in his chest. He tried desperately to take back what he said or to give a stupid reason for saying it, but nothing came, absolutely nothing.

The doctor eyed him questioningly. "What does your sexuality have to do with why you're here?"

Chris sighed, frustrated, before he told the doctor everything.

"No, don't you see? I was in a car accident in the beginning of January, which put me into a coma for seven days. I finally woke up with no recollection of what had happened in the past five years. Ever since then, I've been having little pieces of memories here and there. I remembered me coming out to my friends, but that must be wrong, since I'm straight. I found myself thinking about Ph- er, guys, differently and I don't know why. My brain must have turned gay after the accident, but the rest of me hasn't. I'm not gay. I'm straight. I'm normal. I'm perfectly normal."

"Have any of your family or friends confirmed your memories or told you anything about what you were like before you lost your memory?" he asked.

Chris thought about that for a moment. Aside from Jay confirming the accident memory and occasional sporadic tidbits about his life before, his three friends never told him much. In fact, they barely told him anything.

"I guess not," Chris said, a little surprised at this.

"Well, considering your three friends have been anxiously sitting in the waiting room overnight, would you like to bring them in?"

"Sure, why not?" Chris answered. He remained on the couch while the doctor heaved himself up with a slight grunt and went to retrieve his friends. He came back with them following behind. Jay walked independently, with the aid of a cane, and sat down on the cushion next to Chris. Adam sat next to him, and Phil sat on a chair near Adam. Once the doctor sat back down, he looked to Chris.

"Do you have anything you'd like to ask these men, Chris?" he asked.

Chris nodded his head. "Phil, Adam, Jay, why haven't you told me what I was like during those five years? You've scarcely confirmed a few memories here and there, and you never tell me anything about what went down during that time. I think I have a right to know, since it is my life, and since I don't remember, it's your job to tell me."

"You've never really asked us much," Phil justified. "What do you want to know? If it's something specific, we'll tell you."

With agreeing nods from Adam and Jay, Chris let out a short, quiet sigh.

"Fine. I have a few things I want to know about. First, was I in any relationships during that five year span?"

"Yeah," Phil said. He didn't meet Chris' gaze, but he answered clearly.

"It was only one relationship the whole time," Adam added.

"Well, when did it end, then?"

The three men froze in their seats. He noticed Phil looking at Jay and Adam before he looked at him.

"It ended when the accident happened," Phil answered quietly.

"Well, what happened?" Chris wondered.

"It's a really long story, Chris," Jay warned. "And it's probably one you're not ready to hear."

Chris drew his feet onto the couch and wrapped his muscular arms around them. "Well, I have a 2 hour appointment, so we can start the story."

"You're not ready to hear it," Adam whispered. He looked at him with sadness and a little bit of sympathy. His eyes watered with his emotions.

"Why not?" Chris demanded.

"You won't believe us if we tell you," Jay whispered.

"Maybe I will," Chris challenged.

Adam shook his head. "You need to come to terms with who you are first before we can tell you anything."

Without him needing to elaborate, Chris knew Adam meant he needed to figure out his sexuality.

"Well, I already know I'm straight," Chris told him. "I don't need to 'come to terms' with who I am. I am straight and I know it."

"You're just saying that. You haven't thought about it. You haven't looked inside yourself and seen what's there. You need to acquaint yourself with yourself. Then you'll get your answers."

Chris sighed angrily before burying his face in his knees. He remained like that for the rest of the appointment, where the doctor dismissed everyone. Chris immediately went to lunch.

**PHIL**

"Why couldn't you have just fucking told him in the first place?" Adam hissed at his friend. Phil narrowed his eyes at him.

"I couldn't have told him he was gay and in a relationship with me. He would never have fucking believed me. Where he's at right now – that's where he was before he met me. That's how he was before he figured out he was gay. I can't jump into that cycle and do it for him. He has to fucking do it himself."

"You're lucky I defended you today," Adam shot back. "Next time, I won't be so nice to your selfish needs. He deserves to know."

"If you fucking tell him anything before he's ready to hear it, I'll break your fucking neck," Phil growled in Adam's face. With that, he turned around and stormed off.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	11. The Truth Comes Out

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

March 25, 2013

Once Chris was discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of mental health, he immediately drove home to an empty house. The only indication Phil had been there was a note on the counter.

_Went to the gym. If you get home before I do, there's some leftover Chinese in the fridge. Phil._

Chris moved it aside and stood for a moment in thought. Once he had his brain together, he formed an idea. He pulled the paper closer to him and grabbed a pen before he added his own messy note to the bottom of the page.

_Went to the bar. If I don't come home tonight, it's because I probably got lucky. Or I got so wasted I couldn't drive or call you. Chris._

Chris grabbed his keys and set off for the bar.

* * *

With a frothy beer in hand, Chris looked around the bar. He sipped at it until his eyes fell on a beautiful young girl. He took a huge gulp of his beer before he walked over to where she was talking among a few other girls. When she saw him coming towards her, she gave him a soft smile. He returned the gesture.

"Hey," he said to her. "I'm Chris. What's your name, beautiful?"

She gave a short chuckle before she answered. "I'm Liz. Nice to meet you, Chris."

"You too," he said, smiling. "I hope I'm not being too quick, but would you like to dance?"

"Sure," she said. He grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor.

There, the two danced. It started out clean, but quickly escalated into a lot of grinding and feeling each other. Short of breath, Liz leaned into Chris' ear.

"Wanna go back to my place?" she asked huskily. He nodded and she led the two of them out of the club. "I live a couple blocks from here. It shouldn't take long to walk."

They jogged in anticipation of what was to come. Once they reached an apartment building, Liz jerked Chris to the side and opened up the door. She raced up the stairs with Chris hot on her heels before she fumbled with her key. When the door opened, Chris gently pushed her inside and shut the door on them. Instantly they started kissing. Chris held her face and ran one hand through her hair while Liz slowly walked them towards her bedroom. When the back of her knees hit her bed, they both collapsed onto the soft mattress. Still kissing, they rid each other of their clothes. Once they were down to just underwear, Chris sat up and helped Liz unhook her bra. Chris was rock hard in his boxers and about ready to go insane if he didn't get a little bit of friction soon. Liz gently shrugged out of the garment and tossed it aside. Chris looked down at her chest and felt his chest tighten.

Those didn't look appealing. Those looked unnatural. Those were definitely not what he had expected when she took of the bra, no matter how stupid that sounded. He felt himself droop some, but shook it off and continued kissing her. He trailed kisses down her body until he was above her black lace underwear. He hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled them down slowly. He kissed her thighs, and continued kissing until he arrived in between her legs.

_This_ was even more repulsive than her boobs. It looked like some sort of monster that was about to bite his dick off. He swallowed nervously.

"You okay?" Liz asked, short of breath.

"Mhm," he mumbled before reaching forward and rubbing his finger over her. Her head fell back and a short moan escaped her lips. Turning himself on just by the noises escaping her mouth, he continued to rub his finger over her before he dipped his finger inside of her. He curled it upwards and watched with fascination as her back arched off the bed and she screeched in pleasure.

He continued to rock his finger in and out of her while she rode out her high. When she was reduced to pants and heaving breaths, he took his finger out and grimaced at the liquid covering his finger. He discreetly wiped it off on her sheets before looking around for his clothes.

"Hey, don't you want me to return the favor?" she asked.

"No, that's alright. Thank you though," he said.

"Well, now I feel like a slut," she muttered in embarrassment.

"Honey, you are not a slut. I just need to get home. Thank you for the great time though," Chris lied evenly. "Have a good night."

He dressed quickly and left her apartment regretting absolutely everything that just went down. Her boobs and her crotch absolutely repulsed him. They looked gross, and if he never had to go near either of them again, he'd be a happy man.

_Doesn't mean I'm gay,_ he said to himself. Fully sober now, Chris got into his car back at the club and drove home.

* * *

Chris arrived home late during the night to find Phil semi-conscious in front of the TV.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," Chris told him. He shrugged his jacket off and dropped it onto the floor haphazardly.

"Hm? I wasn't waiting up for you. I fell asleep during a movie," Phil yawned tiredly. He stretched his arms above his head. "Where were you, anyway? You seem pretty sober to me."

"Yeah, I hooked up with some girl," he said all blasé. He sat down at the other end of the couch and stretched his legs out. "By the way, how do I get the smell of pussy off my finger?"

Phil let out a loud snort that must have hurt his nose. "Yeah, like I'd know the answer to that one, buddy. You should probably call someone who's straight."

"Man, it was nasty," Chris complained. "Her tits are literally just two mounds of fat on her chest. How is that sexy? Plus, her snatch looks like some sort of weird dick-eating monster. And to top it all off, the squelching sound it makes is absolutely the biggest turn-off ever."

Phil bit his lip to keep from smiling.

"Which," Chris added, "does not make me gay for feeling that way."

Phil rolled his eyes and his smile disappeared. All the while, Chris smirked proudly.

* * *

March 27, 2013

Chris decided to try out a different kind of club. It never hurt to try something new, right? He'd never tell anyone about it anyway, so where was the harm?

He nervously showed his ID to the bouncer before he entered BOYS XXX. A drop of sweat fell from his neck and rolled down his toned back. He looked around at all the men in the club and felt his heart constrict. They were all so damn attractive!

Someone bumped into Chris, making him trip forward and let out a short yelp. The man helped him to his feet. Chris instantly lost himself in those hazel eyes.

"Sorry about that! My name is Ryan, what's your name?" he asked in a sweet voice. A mix of innocent country boy and wild porn star was his voice.

"I'm Chris. Do you wanna hook up?" he asked abruptly.

Ryan let out a loud cackle. "Well, damn, you don't waste time with pick-up lines, do you? Normally, I'm not such a slut, but for a guy as good looking as you… I'm willing to make exceptions."

Ryan took his hand and led him out of the club. Ryan's hand holding his felt so right. It was about the same size as his, and the sparse coarse hairs on his hands felt nice. He allowed himself to be dragged to wherever Ryan wanted him with a blissed out expression set onto his face.

Sooner rather than later, Chris found himself in a dark bedroom. He could still see Ryan and his beautiful eyes, but the outer corners of his body were concealed in the shadows. He allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed on his back, and felt Ryan's large hands start tracing the contours of his body. A shiver ran down his spine. This was perfect. This was exactly how he imagined sex. He let out a low moan when Ryan's hand rubbed over his nipple.

Ryan pulled his own shirt off before taking Chris' off as well. He also stripped both of them of their jeans, leaving them in nothing but their boxers. Ryan started licking down Chris' abdomen until his lips were ghosting over Chris' bulge in his underwear. He ran his tongue over it teasingly before gently taking it out of the front hole and licking the head once. Chris bit his lip and his toes curled as Ryan continued teasing the head. Eventually, he tore off Chris' underwear and spread his legs. He buried his face between his thighs and started nipping at his perineum. Chris dug his fingers into the mattress in pure delight. Ryan stuck his tongue out and lightly lapped over Chris' tight hole. A shiver ran down his spine again as Ryan worked at his tight ring of muscle. Eventually, he was able to poke his tongue halfway in. He replaced his tongue with one spit-slicked finger in one motion. Chris welcomed this unfamiliar feeling with pure ecstasy.

Ryan worked Chris up until he was fitting three of his fingers inside of Chris. Finally, he slicked his dick with what looked like lube and started to push himself inside of Chris slowly. He filled him until he was seated inside of him, where he remained for a short while to get Chris accustomed to the intrusion.

"Go," Chris begged in a whisper. Instantly Ryan started to move his hips at a fast, even rhythm in and out of Chris. Chris, reduced to moans and murmurs and little yelps of pleasure, imagined it was Phil riding his ass instead of Ryan. He clenched around Ryan's width and let out a loud moan.

"You're not gonna make me last long here, Chris," Ryan panted. He increased his pace, doubling both of their pleasures. With Phil on his mind, Chris shot his load all over his stomach and mentally screamed Phil's name. Panting heavily, he waited until Ryan got off inside of him and rode out his orgasm with soft thrusts. Once he was done, he pulled out and took his condom off and tossed it into the trash.

"You're a natural at this," Ryan murmured to Chris sleepily. "You're so damn tight. I'm gonna have a wet dream just thinking about your tight hole."

Chris left Ryan to fall asleep as he dressed and walked outside. Instantly, the past hour hit him hard, and he collapsed onto the sidewalk in horror.

_I did _not_ just have sex with another man,_ Chris thought, horrified. _Oh god, I-I think…_

"I _am_ gay," Chris mumbled in disbelief. If anyone had been listening, they wouldn't have heard him. His words were lifted up and carried off by the wind, though his words remained true: he was gay.

* * *

A/N: Please Review!


	12. Help Is On the Way

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

March 28, 2013

Chris stumbled into the front door at around four in the morning after walking home from the club. Halfway home he realized he drove to the club, but didn't feel like going back for his car.

He had hoped that he could sneak in and bury himself in his bed, but that didn't happen. Phil was lying down on the couch watching TV while wrapped in a worn brown afghan. He looked up at Chris at the sound of the door opening and gave him a welcoming smile.

"You were gone for a while," Phil commented.

"Yeah, I forgot I had my car so I walked home instead," Chris explained. He sat down on the foot of the couch with a sunken look set on his face.

"You okay?" Phil asked lightly.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know what's going on anymore," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" Phil wondered.

Chris shook his head. "It's nothing. I'm tired; I'm going to go to sleep. See you later."

Chris got off the couch abruptly and speed-walked to his room. He did what he had intended to do right when he got home and buried himself in his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke around noon to an empty house. He stretched his arms above his head and walked stiffly, not to mention slightly bowlegged, to the kitchen where a note was sitting on the counter.

_I'm helping my friend with some yard work today. I'll be home around 6pm. Phil._

Chris pushed it aside and stood in silence for a few moments.

"Maybe I was gay before the accident," Chris muttered under his breath. "In which case, there'd be evidence of that somewhere. Maybe there's stuff in Phil's room."

Chris went into Phil's room, nervous despite the fact Phil wouldn't be home for hours. He looked in obvious places like in the closet, in his bedside table, and in the drawers of his book and DVD case. He checked under the bed but only found a few dust bunnies. With a puzzled grunt, Chris fell onto the ground and thought for a moment. Where would he hide something personal to him?

"Under my bed or between my mattress," Chris answered his thought out loud. "Maybe my sock or underwear drawer…"

Instantly, Chris jolted upwards. He went over to Phil's bureau and opened a few drawers until he found his underwear drawer. He uprooted all of his boxer-briefs until he came across… the bottom of a drawer.

With a frustrated sigh, Chris rearranged all the cotton clothing and shut the drawer. He left Phil's room the way it had been when he walked in and started to pace around in thought.

"If we have an attic, maybe he put stuff there," Chris mused quietly. "Shit, wait, what about the basement?!"

Chris hadn't been in the basement since his accident due to the fact he was in a chair or crutches. That would be the perfect place to hide memorabilia from his gay days, if there was such a thing.

Chris went into the basement. To his left he saw a treadmill, a stair climber, and a bench with a rack of weights adjacent to the wall. To his right sat plastic containers sealed tight, stacked on top of each other. He walked left and behind the staircase were what looked like a couple wardrobes. He stood in front of one and opened it. He found old jackets and what looked like summer clothing. Swimming trunks, an umbrella, and several towels were stacked neatly inside. He shut the door and opened the next one. This one held old wrestling memorabilia. He smiled widely at attire from when he first started wrestling.

With a nostalgic smile, Chris shut the door gently and opened the last wardrobe. His eyes widened when he saw what was before him. Shoeboxes filled with loose photographs were sorted in rows with dates on the cover written in Phil's handwriting with Sharpie. Chris took one from the old piece of furniture and sat on the ground with it.

JULY '08

Chris took the top off and grabbed a few pictures from the front. Many beach photos were in this box. A few shots of Phil alone at the beach were taken, and a few of Chris alone were taken. He stuck that handful back in and took out another. This time, he saw a few pictures of him and Phil sitting in beach chairs next to each other with their arms thrown around each other's shoulders and bright smiles spread across their faces.

A smile fell across Chris' face as he looked at these photos. He couldn't remember any of what had been photographed. While that was saddening, it was also kind of interesting to relive these memories through photographs and try to decipher their meanings and emotions that had happened when the camera flashed.

Chris put the photos away and set the box away in its proper space. He looked around until he came across another box.

FEB '10

Nothing particularly interesting filled this shoebox. Photos of Adam and Jay were abundant, though. Chris put the box away and looked through all the other boxes until he came across a box hidden underneath all the others. It was marked as "US '07-PRESENT"

Chris, with a curious expression carved into his face, carefully took the box out of the wardrobe. He sat on the ground and opened the cover. Pieces of paper sat on top of the photographs. Chris took them and placed them in the cover while he took a small handful of photos out of the box. What filled Chris' vision made his blood run cold.

Photograph upon photograph of he and Phil kissing, hugging, making out, embracing each other half-clothed, and one particular shot of Phil riding him filled his vision. Blue eyes widened in horror. With betrayal coursing through his veins, he dropped the photos and scrambled upstairs. Unbeknownst to Chris, he had spent many hours in the basement, and Phil was now home.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were," Phil chuckled warmly.

Chris stared at him with hurt flickering across his glistening eyes as he weakly balled his hands into fists.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Chris accused in a quiet voice. He was trying so hard to keep from screaming, crying, or both.

Phil looked genuinely confused. "Why didn't I tell you what?"

"Why didn't you tell me that we were in love for five years?" Chris whispered. His voice broke and despite his best efforts a few tears spilled down his cheeks.

The black-haired man looked like he was a deer caught in headlights. His mouth parted slightly as he scrambled for something to say.

"Save it," Chris snapped in the same quiet voice. He made a move to wipe away his tears, but his hand never got to his face. Instead, he looked into Phil's eyes once more and said, "I can't believe you. Don't you think I had a right to know?" Immediately following that, he stormed out of the house without granting Phil the opportunity to respond. He instantly started running away from their house. He could barely concentrate on his surroundings with his thoughts clouding his brain.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Chris asked into the breezy evening air, his voice cracking. He sank to his knees and started crying. His throat was on fire and his lungs were screaming from their oxygen-deprived depths. He tore chunks of grass from the ground and slammed his fists into the divots it made. Steady streams of tears continued falling down his face and splashing onto the ground. He started to hiccup in conjunction with his sobs and wails of despair.

"Why?" Chris repeated quietly. He curled up on the ground and continued crying until there was nothing left for him to cry. He thought he was broken after the accident; that paled in comparison to his current state.

**PHIL**

With his mouth still hanging open, Phil watched as Chris ran out of the house. How had he found out?!

It was probably Adam and Jay, Phil thought angrily. Anger, a burning, searing anger flared through his veins and jolted his heart painfully. He stormed around the house and connected his fists with anything that came in his path. He punched the wall in the kitchen over and over until it was marred with holes spitting plaster. He crouched down and drew his forehead to his knees while he let out a guttural scream and punched his head a few times.

He stood up abruptly and stormed out of the house and into his car. He backed out of the driveway sloppily and without care until he was driving above the speed limit towards Adam and Jay's house. He parked the car half on the front lawn and slammed his car door shut. At a fast pace, he stormed to the front door and kicked the door in. Adam and Jay jumped off the couch and looked towards the door fearfully.

"Why the FUCK did you tell him?" Phil roared so loudly it made the couple flinch.

"We didn't do shit!" Adam yelled at him. "I don't even know what the fuck you're talking about, you fucking psycho!"

"Of course you know what I'm talking about!" Phil thundered. "You fucking told Chris the truth! Couldn't you have just let me deal with it? You're a fucking lowlife bastard!"

"Don't do this, Phil," Jay warned from where he stood over Adam protectively. "I don't want to hurt you."

Phil laughed madly. "You, hurt me? Try again."

With a grunt, he heaved Jay's body over the couch and heard him crash into something. The sound of wood breaking accompanied his impact with the ground.

"Do you remember what I fucking told you would happen if you told him the truth?" Phil hissed in Adam's ear. He had him pinned against the wall by his throat. The blond struggled madly underneath him but couldn't seem to shake him off. "I told you I was going to break your fucking neck. Just remember, Adam, you knew this was coming."

With one quick motion of his hands, he snapped Adam's neck upwards. With a piercing shriek, Adam fell backward and started to cry. What with his past neck traumas, it wouldn't come as a big surprise if this time he didn't recover. Immobilized on the ground, Phil stood up with a sick smile spread across his face. He let out a few chuckles of satisfaction before he kicked his hip for good measure and spit on his struggling body.

"Don't _ever_ talk to me again," Phil growled, frothing at the mouth. "You've successfully ruined my life."

* * *

Phil drove home a little more subdued than when he had left his house. While he was still livid, his heart rate fell as did his breathing. He drove home legally and parked the car in the driveway. He went in the house and looked around for Chris.

"Chris?" he called throughout the house. Achieving no response, Phil sighed and left the house once more. This time, he started walking around the block trying to find him. When Chris used to get upset, he'd run and hide in someone's yard.

Phil found him exactly where he thought he'd be, though something was definitely off. Chris lay unmoving on one of their neighbor's lawns with blood splattered on his shirt and dirt encrusted in the fine lines on his face and embedded in his hair. Phil dropped to his knees and gently shook Chris. The body was lifeless underneath him, though he was breathing weakly. Phil fumbled in his pocket until he found his cell phone. He dialed 911 and immediately told them his emergency. Once he hung up with the dispatcher, Phil snuggled his body closer to Chris' unconscious one.

"I know you don't like me too much right now," Phil whispered to the blond form in his arms, "but I will not let you die. You're going to be okay. And when you wake up, we can talk about this. I love you Chris. I haven't been able to say it for months. I love you, even if you don't return the favor. Please, baby, just hold on. Help is on the way."

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A/N: Please Review!


	13. Seized

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.

* * *

March 30, 2013

Chris woke up in so much pain he could barely take a breath in. Thankfully, he had a cannula in his nose to force the oxygen into his body anyway. His chest was on fire and he felt extremely dizzy. He coughed once, winced in pain, and tried to remember how he ended up in excruciating pain.

_Tears falling down his face, he tried to stand up off the ground. Twice he failed, and on the third time he stood up successfully, albeit a little unsteadily. Instantly, two piercing lights cut into his night-adjusted vision and blinded him temporarily. That split second of paralysis was all that was needed for the reckless driver to run right into him. In that instantaneous moment before he was struck, all he saw was Phil's angry face driving his car like a madman. Then he fell to the ground, coughed up blood all over his shirt, and passed out._

Chris shook his head, which did nothing except make him turn his head to the side so he could throw up all over the floor. The heaving further exasperated the pain in his chest. His eyes welled with tears as he flopped back onto the bed gently.

"You're awake," Phil exclaimed with surprise.

Chris snapped his eyes open and looked at him angrily. "What are _you_ doing here?" he hissed with venom.

Phil flinched. "I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't mean to run into you. I was in a hurry and didn't see you. Please forgive me."

"What did you do to me? Did the doctors tell you?"

"Whiplash, concussion, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, slightly ruptured spleen, partial fracture in your back, a shoulder dislocation, a hip fracture, and a fractured ulna," Phil listed off guiltily.

"Jesus fucking Christ, what _didn't_ you break?" Chris spit angrily.

Before Phil had the chance to respond, three policemen entered the room abruptly and surrounded Phil.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

"Why am I being arrested?!" Phil shrieked loudly.

"This will be discussed when you've been booked," one of them answered. "Do you understand your rights?"

"Yes, but why?" he asked again, terrified.

This time, the officers ignored him. They pulled his wriggling body out of the room and shut the door behind them. With a dumbfounded look on his face, Chris stared at the closed door for several moments after it had shut. What the hell else had Phil done after he had hit him?

**PHIL**

For the duration of the ride in the back of the police cruiser down to the county jail, Phil protested and continually asked why he was being arrested. However, nobody even acknowledged him.

When Phil had been booked and had his belongings confiscated, he was handed a small stack of items, of which included an orange jumpsuit, white socks, white slippers, a small toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a sheet, a pillowcase, and a comb. The police officers took his piercings out before shutting him in a cell, where he'd remain until his "trial". Phil groaned and looked around the room. It was very small and hosted a metal bedframe with a 1-inch thick foam mattress covered with a waterproof blue cover on top of it. A flimsy "pillow" sat atop it. A silver toilet sat right across from the bed, and a metal bench sat a few inches away from the toilet. A toilet paper roll sat next to the toilet. That was the extent of the room. Phil set his toiletries next to the tiny toilet and made his "bed" before sitting down on it.

"What did I do wrong?" Phil asked out loud. He went to flick his lip ring but realized with anger that the officers took it from him. He tried to think back to the previous night.

He remembered leaving the house in a maddening rage. He couldn't remember what happened after that. The last thing he remembered was coming home and finding Chris all bloody on the ground. What happened in between?! He hadn't hurt Chris at all. He would remember running someone over.

"They must have got it wrong," Phil reasoned out loud. "I didn't do anything. How can I be held accountable for something I didn't do?"

* * *

Several hours passed. Phil became extremely restless and anxious being cooped up in such a small space. Finally, he heard someone unlocking his door. An officer came in and handcuffed him before leading him out of the cell and into what appeared to be an interrogation room. However, instead of a detective or some cop, he saw none other than Vince McMahon and a sharp-dressed man standing by his side.

"Phil," Vince greeted him with a small nod. "I heard of your arrest and have brought along one of the company's best lawyers. I wanted to come and tell you in person that Justin Arlington has your best interest at heart, and will fight to the death to make sure you come out with the best outcome possible."

After his mini-speech, Vince walked out of the room, as did the police officer. He shut the door and left the two men alone.

"Mr. Brooks, my name is Justin Arlington. I'm your lawyer, and with me by your side, you most likely won't have to serve a day of jail time for any of your counts."

"It's Phil," Phil said. He sat down in a chair and brought his knees to his chest. He would have wrapped his arms around them, but couldn't because of the cuffs.

"Right, Phil," Justin clarified. "Now, I'm here to discuss with you the charges you have against you. Then I want to hear your side of the story. I need to know everything so I can help you win this case. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Phil answered.

"Okay," Justin said. He grabbed a stack of papers, tapped them on the table, and set them down neatly. "You're being charged with two counts of assault. One is minor, and one is major. You're being charged with breaking and entering in the evening with or without a weapon while the home is occupied. You're being charged with reckless driving and damage of property. You're being charged with hit and run. Phil, when we're done here, I'm confident you'll walk away with a few hours community service and an agreement to take anger management classes."

"Why am I being charged with all that shit?" Phil asked.

"Well, you broke in to and entered the house of Mr. Adam Copeland and Mr. William Reso," Justin said, reading off a paper. "In the words of both Mr. Reso and Mr. Copeland, you broke the door down, came at them violently, and threw Mr. Reso over the couch and onto furniture. Then you threatened Mr. Copeland and broke his neck before kicking his hip and spitting on his fallen body."

"And the vehicular charges, what about them?" Phil asked.

"Mr. Christopher Irvine has alleged that you were driving erratically and had crashed into him and drove off, leaving him for dead on a neighbor's lawn."

"I don't remember any of that," Phil said, chuckling angrily. "There's got to be a mistake."

"Well, that's partly why I'm here," Justin said. "Together, we're going to work through what exactly happened that night and keep you out of prison. I'm going to need your full cooperation, though, or my being here is pointless. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Phil said, sighing. "Let's just get this over with."

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A/N: Please Review!


	14. Outcome

**Disclaimer:** I don't own or claim ownership to any WWE Talent.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warnings:** slash, language, etc.  
**Before You Read:** Last chapter!

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April 4, 2013

After several days and long, excruciating hours, the time came for Phil's trial. He had little people on his side for evidential proof; the state of Illinois, however, had many witnesses.

The first to take the stand was Adam. He had been paralyzed from the injury Phil had supposedly given him. The doctor said there was a great chance the paralysis would only be temporary, but it still broke Phil inside to see Adam in a chair, immobilized from his collarbones down.

Adam was questioned by both the state and Justin before the judge dismissed him and Jay went to the stand. He had a neck brace on and his right arm was in a cast from the alleged assault. Phil still couldn't fully recall what had happened that night, despite his best efforts.

Several more people took to the stand. Each person shamed Phil and made him look like a homicidal maniac. Finally, the last witness was called to the stand. Phil felt his heart drop when he saw Chris being wheeled to the front of the room. He looked absolutely wrecked.

"What is your relationship with the defendant, Mr. Irvine?" the state asked Chris.

Chris held it together, but Phil noticed how he sucked the edge of his bottom lip in slightly and how his eyes cut across the room several times. If he were sitting next to him, he'd hear the sharp outtake of breath through his nose to confirm his nerves.

"Apparently, I was his boyfriend," Chris answered bitterly. Phil hung his head. He couldn't look at Chris while he talked about this.

"Could you clarify what you mean when you say that, Chris?" he pressed.

"Well, I had an accident that gave me amnesia. I forgot the past five years, during which Phil and I were in a serious relationship. However, he neglected to tell me any of this when I woke up from my coma-"

"Objection! Relevance, your Honor," Justin said, standing up.

"Overruled," the judge said. "Chris, please continue."

"We were in a relationship and he never told me about it. I think I had a right to know this was going on," Chris finished.

The state representative nodded and paced across the room at a steady pace. "In your recollection of the years you've known Mr. Brooks, have you known him to be a rather violent man?"

Chris shrugged. "He is a professional wrestler. However, outside of the workplace he's quite mild. He wasn't prone to much outbursts of anger or aggression."

"Has he ever shown anger towards you, Mr. Irvine?" he asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Chris said.

"I believe this is my last question, Chris. What do you remember from the car accident you were the victim of?"

"I had left the house in tears when I found out Phil had been lying to me for months about a relationship between the two of us in the past. We were lovers for nearly five years. I ran around until I finally collapsed in a neighbor's yard. Minutes passed before I started to get to my feet so I could return home and crawl into bed. When I finally stood, I was blinded by two bright lights. My body froze. All I saw before the impact was Phil's angry, fuming face behind the wheel when my body got thrown backwards. He drove off erratically without stopping to realize he had hit me."

"Thank you. You may step down from the stand," the state representative said.

Chris shot him a look before a nurse from the hospital went up and wheeled him off the stand. He had been temporarily discharged to attend the trial.

"The court will take a brief 15 minute break while the jury comes to a decision," the judge announced. He hit his gavel on his podium before standing up and exiting through the back door.

* * *

After a long, painfully agonizing 15 minutes, the court was called back into the room. The jury handed the judge their decision and he read it over, nodding all the while.

"I agree with this wholeheartedly. Phillip Jack Brooks, you're being charged with the following crimes: two counts of assault, reckless driving, and hit and run. All three charges are misdemeanors. For the assault, you'll face 6 months for each count. For reckless driving, you'll receive 2 months. For the hit and run, you'll face 4 months. In addition to jail time, you will need to complete 500 hours of community service and attend 60 hours of anger management classes. The community service hours may be started while in jail as seen fit by your PO. The classes must wait until you've been released from jail. In total, you will face 18 months of jail time. This case of the state vs. Phillip Jack Brooks is now closed. Court dismissed."

Phil hung his head back in his seat and tried not to cry. He was going to miss out on a year and a half of his life because he got inexplicably angry and lost control for no more than 30 minutes. He ran his tattooed hands over his bald head and sighed into his palms. This was going to be absolute hell.

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A/N: Please Review!


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